


Dragonsoul

by Marien



Category: Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-22
Updated: 2011-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-27 20:47:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/299896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marien/pseuds/Marien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Story written for sebaceanbabe in the Yuletide 2011 project!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dragonsoul

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sabaceanbabe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabaceanbabe/gifts).



****

Dragonsoul

  
 _Interval_

Lessa woke first, aware of F'lar's presence beside her. His eyes were still closed, his breathing slow and even.  
She shifted, feeling muscles ache in protest. It had been an unforgettable night, indeed, neither of them aware of anything but one another and their dragons. They'd finally dropped into an exhausted slumber.  
The first hints of dawn had just begun to lighten the sky to the east. Looking down at him, she felt a faint stirring, still.  
Ramoth was peacefully asleep, curled up by Mnementh on the ledge outside. Lessa took a deep breath,and let it out. She glanced critically at herself, seeing drops of crimson stain the blanket underneath her legs.  
It had hurt, but not so much as she'd expected. Worth it? Possibly, she conceded. Certainly there were much worse possible endings to a queen's mating flight. Of all men in the Weyr, he was one of very few she would have wanted to touch so closely. Not that she meant to let F'lar hear her say that aloud for quite some time, if ever.

She put a hand to her abdomen, a stray thought crossing her mind. No; she couldn't have said how she was so certain, but she had no doubt of it; there would be no child from this night's frenzy.  
She was a little surprised at the pang of sadness that surety brought her.

She tucked herself in beside him once again, resolving to stop thinking for a little while.  
They were Weyrmates now, and he Benden's Leader. There'd be time enough for responsibility. Now was for them.  
She pressed a tentative kiss to her sleeping weyrmate's forehead. He stirred, folding his arms around her, half-awake now. Unconsciously, they mimicked their dragons' pose, the fire of last night banked but warmth still enveloping them.

F'lar woke an hour or so later, roused by Mnementh, who reported activity on the roads leading to the Weyr.  
He dressed, as did Lessa, in a silence that neither of them was sure how to break. He'd become aware, too, during that mating heat, that Lessa was virgin still. He hadn't wanted to hurt her, but when dragons mated, softness was no part of their union.  
Finally, he spoke, putting a hand on her arm. "Are...you well?"

She flickered a dark-eyed glance up at him. "No complaints," she replied with a wry smile. "None on your part, I hope. You have what you wanted, now... Weyrleader."

F'lar looked taken aback, then chuckled, and shook his head. "Not quite yet."

Lessa arched eyebrows in silent inquiry.

"M'lady, not every rider whose dragon rises, has to lie with the other rider involved. It's often that way, yes, not always. What I sought was the Weyrleader's position, through Mnementh and Ramoth, aye; I won't lie to you about that. What I wanted for myself was you." He let his gaze travel over her, pure masculine appreciation and heat in his eyes. "Not only for one night."

"And--if I say, that want isn't mutual?" she flared at him, her mercurial temper jabbed by his confidence

"Give it time." F'lar shrugged. "As will I, though after three years' wait---" he broke off, annoyed. "We'll have to speak of this later," he said formally. "The Weyrleaders' presence is being requested, rather urgently."  
It took a second for her to realize that he was using the plural. That casual acceptance of her position quelled Lessa's temper, to a point.

 

They met with a group of bronze and brown riders, to plan for how to deal with the group of Lord Holders who meant to lead an armed force against the Weyr. Lessa listened, but didn't speak, at least not to the riders. Their dragons, now, was another matter. She subtly reinforced F'lar's authority with the recalcitrant riders, as Ramoth backed her. Not control, but a pressure that made them not want to challenge his words.  
When he left the council chamber to face the Holders, he directed her to remain behind. She kept a polite smile on her face, waited until she had privacy, and retrieved one of Mnementh's spare harnesses from F'lar's weyr.  
She wouldn't be some fawning, submissive girl-child, like some of the women she'd seen ogling the bronze riders in the Lower Caverns.  
Ramoth could fly--and they would show the Weyr a real Queen and Weyrwoman, today.

She climbed onto Ramoth's back, after securing the harness, though Ramoth complained of it being a bit too snug. The young queen was just as eager as Lessa to try their wings out.  
They took off, gliding upward, slowly and then picked up speed as they grew accustomed to the feel of the winds and the sensation of flight. Ramoth had never flown with a rider before; this was a new experience for both, one they had been longing for.  
Lessa glanced down, seeing the Weyr far below them, and felt her eyes widen in awed delight. There were no words...How had Jora's queen been able to bear being grounded, she wondered?  
She caught sight of Mnementh, and then Canth winked out of between some distance away.  
(Let's go see what they're up to, shall we?) Lessa suggested.  
Ramoth turned in that direction, coming in behind the other dragons. F'lar eventually looked up, of course. He gestured toward them, and Lessa could see Holders as well as dragonriders gaping at them. She laughed, silently. Ramoth preened a little, enjoying the attention.  
Hunger began to impinge on their thoughts, however. By mutual agreement, they started back toward the Weyr. Lessa could pick up some of what Ramoth saw and felt, sharing her dragon's senses. The scent of another dragon, and the sound of distant wingbeats, which they identified as Mnementh, following them.  
They landed near the feeding grounds, and Lessa slid down off Ramoth's back. The queen leaped to catch a nearby buck.  
Lessa waited calmly as F'lar and Mnementh landed. The Weyrleader's face was unreadable.  
She couldn't let him forbid them to fly, she resolved. She could and would not, despite the dangers. It would be like putting Ramoth in a cage, after today. Oh, they couldn't! Neither she nor her queen would be able to bear it again.  
"Queens can, too, fly," she blurted out as he approached her.  
He stopped within arm's length of her, grinning. "Of course they can," he assured her. "That's why they have wings!"

Mnementh snorted, sounding amused. (I told you. We'll teach you, once Ramoth has fed and rested. Not today,) the bronze added with a touch of sternness.  
F'lar echoed his dragon's sentiments, unaware of Mnementh's comment to Lessa. "You have my promise on it, as soon as duty allows," the Weyrleader told his Weyrwoman. "You'll be taught regular flight drills with myself and C'gan, and how to fly between safely." His face hardened. "I'll have your promise in return, Lessa, to wait until that time, rather than attempt it alone. It's too dangerous. Even experienced riders sometimes are lost to us, along with their dragons."

"I understand," she conceded. "I'll wait." 'For now' was unspoken but audible between them.

 _First Fall_

She watched and heard as the Weyr's dragons hastily assembled for flight, riders loading their mates down with firestone sacks.  
F'lar and his wing took to the air, and vanished between.  
Lessa listened, passing messages between wings, feeling a maelstrom of emotions from the Weyr's dragons, fear/pain/determination/hope/anguish, hearing voices roar in defiant challenge, and others fall silent, to be replaced by the keen announcing a dragon's death.  
F'lar finally returned, his riding leathers scorched and Thread-scored, but alive. She fought the urge to run to him. Now, more than ever, she had to act the part of a Leader, not a lover.  
It was harder than she could have imagined. She sent off the other women, seeing to F'lar's Threadscore.  
One of the other women tried to remain "to assist them", but a chilly glare from the Weyrwoman sent the blonde girl swiftly seeking attention elsewhere.  
That night, F'lar reached for her, hungrily, needing, and Lessa let herself respond as she had on that first night. When he would have drawn away, she clung to him tightly, refusing to let him leave her bed. "Stay with me," she whispered. "Don't you dare leave!"

Yet, when they faced the next days' reality, she realized that she might have to leave him.  
Threadfall left them no room for squeamishness or weak-willed choices.  
The discovery of Ramoth's ability to fly between times, and the mystery of the other Weyrs' disappearance, were the pieces in a puzzle that finally began to make sense. Not "where" had Pern's other dragonriders gone, but when.

She could see fear in F'lar's eyes when he shook her, told her that not even saving Pern was worth losing her, or Ramoth.  
If she and Ramoth were in agreement, no one could prevent them from making the jump _between,_ not even the Weyrleader, and Lessa and F'lar both knew it.  
She didn't know if they could survive this, but it had to be done.  
If the risk wasn't taken, Benden Weyr would keep fighting, without the help they needed...and it would destroy them. They would be slaughtered, eventually.  
C'gan's Thread-eaten body became F'lar's, in her mind's eye. _No!_

 _We'll come back,_ she thought fiercely. _I won't lose you. I won't!_

Lessa visualized the scene from the tapestry, as clearly as she could, and she and Ramoth went _between,_ those the last words they both thought as the darkness engulfed them.

 _The Return_  
Lessa and Ramoth emerged, finally, over Ruatha, cold and shaken to their very bones. The pair landed just  
ahead of the Fort Weyrleaders. F'lar was running toward her. Lessa embraced him, even as he  
chanted her name, the relief on his face a match for hers. She wiped tears from her eyes, trying to  
stay calm and dignified as she introduced the other dragonriders who'd come ahead in time with her.

Seeing renewed hope in his eyes, and in Robinton's and Lytol's, was one of the few unalloyed, good memories  
she'd keep for the rest of her life.   
They returned home to rest, at T'ron's and Mardra's urging, to meet with the other Weyrleaders late the next day.

"I am proud of you," F'lar told her softly, when they were alone. "Never doubt it...disobedient little  
witch that you are, sometimes," he added with a wicked glint in his eyes.   
Lessa smirked. "Would you have it otherwise?" she asked.

"...No."

Mnementh rumbled happy assent. F'lar hesitated, then asked, "Did you and Ramoth...I know she must be close to  
rising again, if she did not while you both were away."

"No," Lessa said adamantly. "Soon, though."

She stood on tiptoe to kiss him. He held her close, as the dragons crooned their approval.

 _Second Rising_

By the time Ramoth rose for her second flight, Lessa had begun to hope that she, too, would have a child  
in the autumn.   
The clutch Ramoth laid--including a third queen, to everyone's delight--kept F'lar and the other male  
riders too distracted to notice a slight increase in their Weyrwoman's moods. Lessa kept the secret for  
as long as she could. "I don't need cosseting, or protecting," she told F'lar when he finally began to  
suspect.   
She'd come to look forward to her weyrmate's touch, rather than endure or dread it. Now, it was hard for her to imagine sleeping alone every night.  
She broke the news to him just barely ahead of Ramoth telling half the Weyr not to disturb Lessa while "she was clutching and tired!"

The pregnancy did wear her down somewhat. Morning sickness continued well into the sixth month.  
A moon or so before she should have gone into labor, pains awoke her in the middle of the night.   
Ramoth was with her, the queen's presence muting the contractions, as F'lar helped her to stand. Lessa needed to walk, restlessness having seized her. (Will it be a girl? Maybe she'll Impress one of _my_  
daughters when she's of age.)

"I sent F'nor for Masterhealer Oldive," F'lar told her unexpectedly.

"What? Shards, that's ridiculous! Manora's delivered hundreds of children. I don't need--"

"I won't risk you." There was no yielding in his voice.

Lessa was in labor only a few hours, with both Manora and Oldive in attendance. Ramoth and Mnementh  
whispered encouragement as pain racked her, as did F'lar.   
The couch was soaked with sweat, and blood, when their son finally emerged into the world.   
His lusty cry of protest made her smile, despite exhaustion...  
before the pain abruptly worsened, dragging her into a faint.   
F'lar swiftly took his son from Manora, seeing Lessa turn pale and collapse back onto the  
cushions. He waited, each second seeming like an eternity, as the Headwoman and Healer worked  
over their patient to stop the bleeding.

He tucked the baby against his shoulder, seeing the boy look up at him with Lessa's dark eyes.  
Finally, the bleeding was staunched, and some of Lessa's color gradually returned.

"She'll need to stay abed for at least a sevenday," Oldive warned him. "And..." he hesitated, then  
added softly, "I would strongly advise against her bearing any further children, Weyrleader. We very nearly lost her. The risk would be no less a second time."

"Understood. Thank you," F'lar told him, fervently. They could foster, if Lessa longed for more  
children. He doubted that she would, but then again, he'd long since stopped trying to predict what  
his beloved would or wouldn't do.   
"I love you," he whispered, taking her hand in his.

She squeezed back, eyes flickering open for a second.

(She knows. But you can tell her again, when she's more awake--and hear her tell you,) Ramoth  
murmured.   
Amused, he gave the queen a salute. "So I will."   
He tucked the sleeping furs close around his weyrmate, and settled in to keep vigil over her and their son.


End file.
